I've heard about log retention and its benefits last year and recently started practicing(aka NoShit). Here's just a few benefits:
> Increased pelvic muscle strength, leading to better erections
> Extra nutrients extracted from sigmoid colon
> Better blood flow in the pelvic area, leading to better health

I've been letting my log ferment for almost 2 weeks now. Never felt better, never had better erections. If your noodle is limp from the constant porn consumption and cooming this will help you.

Pro-Cyberbullying Activist

Dearest Hambert, we aren't judging your feelings nor are we questioning their existence.
We are roasting your subpar literacy, your terrible word choices, your complete disregard for sentence structure and grammar, your shallow and heavily clichéd ideas, and perhaps most of all, your lack of coherence.
Signed,
Those that can form a sentence

Dearest Hambert, we aren't judging your feelings nor are we questioning their existence.
We are roasting your subpar literacy, your terrible word choices, your complete disregard for sentence structure and grammar, your shallow and heavily clichéd ideas, and perhaps most of all, your lack of coherence.
Signed,
Those that can form a sentence

China incubates plagues.

Insulin don't work
Acanthosis nigricans
Death is imminent
-------
Destiny left me
For a fridge shaped ogre girl
I now date Cartman
-------
Roach kissed my shoulder
No one takes out the garbage
Inhaling fruit flies
-------
Snapbacks on her head
Gym shorts but not for work outs
Tube neck without beard
-------
Lexington hotel
Is this raw brownie batter
Bring me McDonald's

Confronter of Cryptoid Cuntiness

Crawled out of my sick bed I did, weak & staggering from a short lived bout of gastro thinking: "Oh she uploaded something; maybe it will distract me from feeling like a shit sandwich." That was my first mistake. Trying to listen was my second - tapped out after 10 minutes of even more garbage verbiage than that... "poem".

Count me as another who'd like to speak to those who thought that was good.

Poetry isn't meant to be a greasy word salad of stale metaphors & every form of poetry has rules. And yes, Amber, poets mature as they live their lives & that may be her biggest problem, other than a complete lack of talent. The only 'rule' she's following is: "Write what you know" & unfortunately all she knows is mental masturbatory thoughts about herself.

When I peek, it is in the line of duty.

0:12 She’s blathering about this being a vulnerable video, but I’m distracted by Twinkie lounging in the background. She looks over AL’s arm at the camera. Her expression practically screams ‘this fucking bitch. Woke me up from my nap. Ugh.’

0:16 ‘My true. Inner. Feelings.’ What, hunger?

0:23 She’s talking about Instagram for days and shit. I’m hypnotized watching her blubber jiggle with every small gesture she makes. She’s talking about being super obsessed with answering questions and how it’s been fun or something? I dunno.

0:44 Says she shared a poem, and the majority of people professed she’s a really good writer. She fails to mention the majority of those people are (a) socks or (b) mentally exceptional. Perhaps (c), twelve years old.

0:55 And now she whines about how one mean bit about her poetry makes all the good stuff go away. Wah wah. I see that Twinkie is crawling further away from you as this video goes on. Even she can’t take your shit anymore.

1:00 ‘So I’ve been writing poetry since 6th grade.’ And you’ve made no progress. She’s blathering on and on about how people change and blossom (and grow with hundreds of pounds of blubber). Then waffles on about how some people will love it and some will hate it. And then talks about how people can read poems and come up with things that the author didn’t even present. It’s called you aren’t capable of expressing your actual intentions.

2:20 Says she’s using poetry as a means to journal. She doesn’t sit there with ‘a thought process of writing a poem.’ IT WORKS BEST FOR HER.

2:53 Her rough draft is always her final draft. Because she’s an illiterate idiot.

3:10 Going to read a poem then explain what she meant. No time stamp for the poem. Just typing it as she reads it. Still blathers rather than reading for a bit longer because she’s stalling to make her video longer as to throw more ads into it. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND READ, YOU DUMB COW.

(Enter the dumb)

I’m fine

Loneliness was her autobiography (Obviously about AL herself)
She sat in her room and counted the cracks in her ceiling (as she ate orange chicken)
Her mind was the destination she tried to run away from (her mind was Kentucky)
She forgot how it felt to laugh with other people (because they’re laughing at her, not with her)
Beg her to smile and her face would crack (I think that’s what she said, but she’s swallowing her fucking tongue and failing to enunciate)
She hid (willing to bet it should be ‘had’) mascara stained pillow cases and novels full of self hatred (so she’s a novelist? Or is she scribbling in novels? AL, you shitlord, what the fuck.)
Ask her how she’s doing and she’d lie and say ‘I’m fine.’ (I thought you never lie anymore)
Ask her how she’s doing and she’d lie (said with emphasis. So ArTiStIc. So DrAmAtIc.)
AsK hEr HoW sHe’S DooooOOOOoooOOOeeeeeEEEnnnNNNgggGGG
Ask me how I’m doing (way to make it direct. Furrowing your brow isn’t effective when there’s no hair there to emphasize the movement. Just makes you look like an upset infant)
I’m so tired of being this lonely (BECKY, GET BACK UNDER THE BUS)
I’m so terrified that this is it for me (COVID, you bitch)
That these tears are all it will ever be (Oh, that solitary tear you keep squeezing out of your face when you’re dEvAsTaTeD? Bwahahahaha fuck off)
I’m beginning to think that you don’t want to hold me (Twinkie’s collar jangling as she violently shakes her head NO in the background, unseen as she’s buried herself in the pillows behind AL is just lovely)
I don’t want this to be the death of me (No worries. The Beetus will take care of that)
For I have lost the best of me (in mounds of hypocrisy and lies and blubber and idiocy)
I’d lie and say I’m fine (Twinkie is noping right the fuck out of there lol)

(End the poetic dumb, now into the commentary dumb)

4:40 Blathers about how she felt like she needed to put emphasis on some of it because she feels like emphasis makes it understood a little bit better.

4:55 Says she got lots of messages stating that it’s about Becky. She states that’s obviously not right, wah wah wah. It’S nOt TrUe!1!

5:15 What she meant. Bleh.

No more time stamps for right now, because it seems like she’s doing a line by line breakdown.

Loneliess is self explanatory. Says the crack counting is her remembering that she was in such a depressive state that she didn’t want to do anything.

Oh, it was a metaphor? LOL No it wasn’t.

Now the bit about her mind - says she got replies that it didn’t make sense (the whole mind is a destination she’s trying to run away from line). Because it didn’t. She says that Poetry by Amberlynn Reid doesn’t HAVE TO MAKE SENSE (you haydurs), but it absolutely DOES, you illiterate idiots.

The whole line about forgetting how to smile and laughing and shit is self explanatory.

Says she’s so used to not smiling and being so sad that she’s a statue. A statue of jiggling nonsense.

She says she writes in a lot of metaphors but didn’t even notice.

The whole shit about her pillowcases is about her wearing mascara and ugly-crying it off. But you dumb shit, you don’t have pillowcases.

Her triple-stated ‘ask her how she’s dooooeeeeen’ is about her lying. But she doesn’t lie. Make up your stupid mind, you vapid cunt.

STOP BLATHERING ABOUT THIS. GAH. She’s still going on about how people ask how she’s doing but don’t mean it and blah blah blah blah blah.

The whole big paragraph is in italics or some shit after her ‘Ask me how I’m doing’ is just word vomit or something. Whatever.

Now she’s blathering about her inner demons. What, is she now a writer for Imagine Dragons?

The lines “I’m beginning to think you don’t want to hold me” and whatever ISN’T ABOUT BECKY REEEEEEEEEE.

Says it’s about when she’s depressed she thinks that everyone in her life hates her and that’s not real and she has to remind herself that it’s not real and so on and so forth and this is nothing but word vomit and I’m hardly paying attention to her anymore. Because she’s blathering about the same bullshit.

‘It’s not me talking, it’s the depression talking.’ I thought it was the Binge Monster (tm).

And she now says ‘I hope that makes sense to some of you.’ Yeah, it was vapid and dumb. It was about as deep as the puddle made by a single second of Puget Sound drizzle.

Instagram is full of idiots according to AL, because you dingbats didn’t get it.

Says her poetry has gotten a lot better. Pardon me, my sides just split from laughter. I have to rewind the video.

Says her poems used to be too long. Too long? It’s not like you’re writing the fucking Iliad, you shitburger.

Oh fuck me. Another poem.

(Enter more dumb)

Secret Love

You sat next to me today and I could smell the cherries that lived in your hair (I want to eat them)
You smelled (smiled, I suspect) at me without knowing that you’re the reason I wore my favorite shirt (because it’s my favorite shirt, but apparently I need reasons to wear it. You empty-headed cuntburger, this is why people say your poetry is shit. Because it should be ‘I wore YOUR favorite shirt’. YOUR. Emphasis required.)

(End that mercifully short dumb)

13:22 ‘That’s me.’ I could tell. It was as brilliant as the pigeon that flew into my fence last week.

13:30 ‘All you need are those two lines to know that you’re in love’ and now she goes on blathering about bullshit. Confess, you’re in love with your favorite shirt and eating cherries. That’s what that says.

FUCK. More of these 2-line idiot dribbles.

(MORE DUMB.)

Cursive

All my poems are the same (NO SHIT. A moment of blessed self-realization)
Loneliness written in a million different ways (No, they’re written in the same way. Pointless, meandering dribble)

(Please less that be the end of the dumb)

That about sums it up.

13:54 Blabs on about how years and years ago she thought that her poems had to be super long, but she’s realized that she can make her poems just as lacking in effort as everything else in her life.

(NOOO FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!)

Cheap wine (the only kind AL drinks)

You must love noise
Playing with an innocent mind
With your dirty hands and cheap wine

(STAAAAAAHHHHHP)

14:08 ‘That says a lot!’ Sure it does. Sure it does, AL. ‘That you are horrible and you’re taking advantage of someone.’ What, is this another rape accusation or some bullshit? Because we know you have zero originality and everything’s got to revolve around you.

14:18 Finally realizes that she’s rambling. Knows she’s going to get a lot of hate on this video. Professes it’s hard to see people attacked for things they’ve made. States it’s hard for people to judge her feelings. Except you put that shit out for everyone to interpret.

14:55 ‘If you guys want to hear any more poetry from me’ OH MERCIFUL HEAVENS NO. Except some take joy in your buffoonery, so… maybe? Ugh. Such a difficult conundrum to be in. Agony, just to make fun of you? Arrrrrgggggghhhhhh. She threatens to read her old shit so you can compare it to her more modern stuff. So we can see the lack of progress.

My human and I talk shit about you

0:12 She’s blathering about this being a vulnerable video, but I’m distracted by Twinkie lounging in the background. She looks over AL’s arm at the camera. Her expression practically screams ‘this fucking bitch. Woke me up from my nap. Ugh.’

0:16 ‘My true. Inner. Feelings.’ What, hunger?

0:23 She’s talking about Instagram for days and shit. I’m hypnotized watching her blubber jiggle with every small gesture she makes. She’s talking about being super obsessed with answering questions and how it’s been fun or something? I dunno.

0:44 Says she shared a poem, and the majority of people professed she’s a really good writer. She fails to mention the majority of those people are (a) socks or (b) mentally exceptional. Perhaps (c), twelve years old.

0:55 And now she whines about how one mean bit about her poetry makes all the good stuff go away. Wah wah. I see that Twinkie is crawling further away from you as this video goes on. Even she can’t take your shit anymore.

1:00 ‘So I’ve been writing poetry since 6th grade.’ And you’ve made no progress. She’s blathering on and on about how people change and blossom (and grow with hundreds of pounds of blubber). Then waffles on about how some people will love it and some will hate it. And then talks about how people can read poems and come up with things that the author didn’t even present. It’s called you aren’t capable of expressing your actual intentions.

2:20 Says she’s using poetry as a means to journal. She doesn’t sit there with ‘a thought process of writing a poem.’ IT WORKS BEST FOR HER.

2:53 Her rough draft is always her final draft. Because she’s an illiterate idiot.

3:10 Going to read a poem then explain what she meant. No time stamp for the poem. Just typing it as she reads it. Still blathers rather than reading for a bit longer because she’s stalling to make her video longer as to throw more ads into it. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND READ, YOU DUMB COW.

(Enter the dumb)

I’m fine

Loneliness was her autobiography (Obviously about AL herself)
She sat in her room and counted the cracks in her ceiling (as she ate orange chicken)
Her mind was the destination she tried to run away from (her mind was Kentucky)
She forgot how it felt to laugh with other people (because they’re laughing at her, not with her)
Beg her to smile and her face would crack (I think that’s what she said, but she’s swallowing her fucking tongue and failing to enunciate)
She hid (willing to bet it should be ‘had’) mascara stained pillow cases and novels full of self hatred (so she’s a novelist? Or is she scribbling in novels? AL, you shitlord, what the fuck.)
Ask her how she’s doing and she’d lie and say ‘I’m fine.’ (I thought you never lie anymore)
Ask her how she’s doing and she’d lie (said with emphasis. So ArTiStIc. So DrAmAtIc.)
AsK hEr HoW sHe’S DooooOOOOoooOOOeeeeeEEEnnnNNNgggGGG
Ask me how I’m doing (way to make it direct. Furrowing your brow isn’t effective when there’s no hair there to emphasize the movement. Just makes you look like an upset infant)
I’m so tired of being this lonely (BECKY, GET BACK UNDER THE BUS)
I’m so terrified that this is it for me (COVID, you bitch)
That these tears are all it will ever be (Oh, that solitary tear you keep squeezing out of your face when you’re dEvAsTaTeD? Bwahahahaha fuck off)
I’m beginning to think that you don’t want to hold me (Twinkie’s collar jangling as she violently shakes her head NO in the background, unseen as she’s buried herself in the pillows behind AL is just lovely)
I don’t want this to be the death of me (No worries. The Beetus will take care of that)
For I have lost the best of me (in mounds of hypocrisy and lies and blubber and idiocy)
I’d lie and say I’m fine (Twinkie is noping right the fuck out of there lol)

(End the poetic dumb, now into the commentary dumb)

4:40 Blathers about how she felt like she needed to put emphasis on some of it because she feels like emphasis makes it understood a little bit better.

4:55 Says she got lots of messages stating that it’s about Becky. She states that’s obviously not right, wah wah wah. It’S nOt TrUe!1!

5:15 What she meant. Bleh.

No more time stamps for right now, because it seems like she’s doing a line by line breakdown.

Loneliess is self explanatory. Says the crack counting is her remembering that she was in such a depressive state that she didn’t want to do anything.

Oh, it was a metaphor? LOL No it wasn’t.

Now the bit about her mind - says she got replies that it didn’t make sense (the whole mind is a destination she’s trying to run away from line). Because it didn’t. She says that Poetry by Amberlynn Reid doesn’t HAVE TO MAKE SENSE (you haydurs), but it absolutely DOES, you illiterate idiots.

The whole line about forgetting how to smile and laughing and shit is self explanatory.

Says she’s so used to not smiling and being so sad that she’s a statue. A statue of jiggling nonsense.

She says she writes in a lot of metaphors but didn’t even notice.

The whole shit about her pillowcases is about her wearing mascara and ugly-crying it off. But you dumb shit, you don’t have pillowcases.

Her triple-stated ‘ask her how she’s dooooeeeeen’ is about her lying. But she doesn’t lie. Make up your stupid mind, you vapid cunt.

STOP BLATHERING ABOUT THIS. GAH. She’s still going on about how people ask how she’s doing but don’t mean it and blah blah blah blah blah.

The whole big paragraph is in italics or some shit after her ‘Ask me how I’m doing’ is just word vomit or something. Whatever.

Now she’s blathering about her inner demons. What, is she now a writer for Imagine Dragons?

The lines “I’m beginning to think you don’t want to hold me” and whatever ISN’T ABOUT BECKY REEEEEEEEEE.

Says it’s about when she’s depressed she thinks that everyone in her life hates her and that’s not real and she has to remind herself that it’s not real and so on and so forth and this is nothing but word vomit and I’m hardly paying attention to her anymore. Because she’s blathering about the same bullshit.

‘It’s not me talking, it’s the depression talking.’ I thought it was the Binge Monster (tm).

And she now says ‘I hope that makes sense to some of you.’ Yeah, it was vapid and dumb. It was about as deep as the puddle made by a single second of Puget Sound drizzle.

Instagram is full of idiots according to AL, because you dingbats didn’t get it.

Says her poetry has gotten a lot better. Pardon me, my sides just split from laughter. I have to rewind the video.

Says her poems used to be too long. Too long? It’s not like you’re writing the fucking Iliad, you shitburger.

Oh fuck me. Another poem.

(Enter more dumb)

Secret Love

You sat next to me today and I could smell the cherries that lived in your hair (I want to eat them)
You smelled (smiled, I suspect) at me without knowing that you’re the reason I wore my favorite shirt (because it’s my favorite shirt, but apparently I need reasons to wear it. You empty-headed cuntburger, this is why people say your poetry is shit. Because it should be ‘I wore YOUR favorite shirt’. YOUR. Emphasis required.)

(End that mercifully short dumb)

13:22 ‘That’s me.’ I could tell. It was as brilliant as the pigeon that flew into my fence last week.

13:30 ‘All you need are those two lines to know that you’re in love’ and now she goes on blathering about bullshit. Confess, you’re in love with your favorite shirt and eating cherries. That’s what that says.

FUCK. More of these 2-line idiot dribbles.

(MORE DUMB.)

Cursive

All my poems are the same (NO SHIT. A moment of blessed self-realization)
Loneliness written in a million different ways (No, they’re written in the same way. Pointless, meandering dribble)

13:54 Blabs on about how years and years ago she thought that her poems had to be super long, but she’s realized that she can make her poems just as lacking in effort as everything else in her life.

(NOOO FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!)

Cheap wine (the only kind AL drinks)

You must love noise
Playing with an innocent mind
With your dirty hands and cheap wine

(STAAAAAAHHHHHP)

14:08 ‘That says a lot!’ Sure it does. Sure it does, AL. ‘That you are horrible and you’re taking advantage of someone.’ What, is this another rape accusation or some bullshit? Because we know you have zero originality and everything’s got to revolve around you.

14:18 Finally realizes that she’s rambling. Knows she’s going to get a lot of hate on this video. Professes it’s hard to see people attacked for things they’ve made. States it’s hard for people to judge her feelings. Except you put that shit out for everyone to interpret.

14:55 ‘If you guys want to hear any more poetry from me’ OH MERCIFUL HEAVENS NO. Except some take joy in your buffoonery, so… maybe? Ugh. Such a difficult conundrum to be in. Agony, just to make fun of you? Arrrrrgggggghhhhhh. She threatens to read her old shit so you can compare it to her more modern stuff. So we can see the lack of progress.